Chapter 12 #2
Instead, she reached for another piece of cake, her tone lightening once more. “Well,” she said, “moody and handsome is still an improvement over cruel and ancient.”
Eloise laughed despite herself. “Aye,” she said. “On that, we can agree.”
But even as she smiled, the weight of what she had not said pressed heavily on her chest. And she could not shake the feeling that Beatrice, clever as she was, would not remain fooled for long.
The next morning dawned bright and clear, and Eloise wasted no time in sweeping Beatrice from her chamber and into the heart of the castle.
“Come, I’ll show ye everythin’,” she said, her voice lighter than it had been in days. Beatrice followed eagerly, her curiosity unrestrained as she peered into corridors and rooms alike.
“It’s enormous,” she said, laughing as they passed beneath a stone archway.
Eloise smiled. “Aye, and I still get lost in it,” she admitted.
“Then I shall rely on ye nae to abandon me to wander these halls alone,” Beatrice teased.
They moved through the great hall, where servants bustled about their tasks, and Beatrice slowed to take it in.
“This is where ye dine?” she asked.
Eloise nodded. “Aye, and so shall ye, this evenin', with the entire clan watchin’,” she said wryly.
Beatrice grinned. “I would expect nothing. They must never take their eye off ye. Ye are the future Lady MacAllister after all,” she said.
Eloise huffed softly but said nothing, turning instead toward the corridor that led outside.
How I long to tell her that I am nae the Lady MacAllister and never will be.
“The gardens are quieter,” she said. “I think ye’ll like them better.”
Beatrice brightened at once. “Lead on, then.”
The gardens welcomed them with soft sunlight and Beatrice let out a delighted breath.
“Oh, Eloise,” she said, spinning slightly as she took it all in. “It’s beautiful.”
Eloise smiled, watching her. “Aye, it is,” she said.
They wandered along the paths together, their conversation easy and filled with laughter, the tension of the past days easing for a time.
“I almost envy ye,” Beatrice said.
“Almost?” Eloise teased.
“Well,” Beatrice said, smirking, “I’ve yet to see how the Laird behaves on a daily basis, but alas ye have a romance to fill yer days.”
Eloise laughed, but the sound softened as her thoughts shifted.
“Bea,” she said after a moment, her tone quieter.
Beatrice glanced at her. “Aye?”
Eloise hesitated, then asked, “Bea… the matter I wish to tell ye is…”
“What is it?” Beatrice asked.
Ye promised ye would nae admit the truth.
Eloise shifted and said, “Did Laird Drummond come to Whitmore house?”
Beatrice’s expression changed at once, the lightness fading. “Aye,” she said. “The very next morn.”
Eloise stopped walking. “He did?” she asked.
Beatrice nodded. “Yer father had to tell him ye were gone. That ye had fled the marriage.”
Eloise gasped softly, her hand rising to her chest. “That couldnae have been a good moment for me father,” she said.
Beatrice shook her head. “Nay,” she said. “Drummond was furious.”
Eloise swallowed. “Of course he was,” she murmured.
Beatrice’s voice lowered slightly. “He said he was promised a bride, and ye were nay longer there to be claimed. He said ye wouldnae take the humiliation our family placed upon him.”
Eloise shivered faintly. “I hope he forgets it all after he calmed. I admit I didnae think of what he would do in retaliation for such a humiliation,” she said.
She drew in a breath, steadying herself. “His reputation…” she continued. “It frightened me. All his wives… gone. That is why I ran away from the engagement to Laird Drummond.”
Beatrice nodded grimly. “Aye, I can understand,” she said.
Eloise shook her head. “And he is so very old,” she added.
Beatrice’s expression brightened suddenly. “Aye,” she said with a laugh, “and Laird MacAllister is young and handsome.”
Eloise laughed as well, the tension easing once more. “That he is,” she admitted.
“My life has changed so much in these past two weeks,” Eloise said softly, glancing around the gardens.
Beatrice clapped her hands lightly. “Then there are only two more weeks until the wedding,” she said excitedly.
Eloise’s smile faltered slightly. “Aye,” she said.
Beatrice leaned closer. “What will ye wear?” she asked eagerly. “And when will ye send word to invite the clans?”
Eloise’s heart sank to her belly, her thoughts scrambling.
She hesitated, her gaze dropping briefly.
I hate this, hate the lie sitting heavy on me tongue. But I cannae risk telling Beatrice the truth, not now.
“I… have yet to decide,” she said carefully. Before Beatrice could press further, a voice interrupted.
“The gardens seem lively today,” Mairead said as she stepped around the corner.
Eloise stiffened slightly, then forced a polite smile. “Mairead,” she said. “This is me cousin, Miss Beatrice Whitmore.”
Beatrice curtsied lightly. “A pleasure,” she said.
Mairead returned the gesture with a composed smile. “The pleasure is mine,” she replied. “I was just tendin’ to the plants, as I often do.”
Beatrice glanced around admiringly. “They are very lovely,” she said.
Mairead’s smile deepened, though something beneath it remained unreadable. “Aye,” she said. “I’ve admired them since I was a wee bairn.” She paused, then added softly, “I had always hoped they would be mine one day.”
Beatrice blinked, confusion flickering across her face. “Yers?” she echoed.
Eloise stepped in quickly. “We should go,” she said, her tone light but firm. “It is nearly time for luncheon and the Mairi would have put a lovely meal together for us.”
Beatrice glanced between them, then nodded. “Aye, of course,” she said. “It was lovely meetin’ ye.”
Mairead inclined her head. “And ye as well,” she said.
As Eloise led Beatrice away, she felt Mairead’s presence linger behind them. They had not gone far when voices carried faintly through the garden.
“Ewan, ye’ve overwatered this row again,” Mairead was saying, her tone calm but precise. “These roots will rot if ye’re nay careful.”
The older man huffed. “I’ve tended these longer than ye’ve been alive, lass,” he replied.
Mairead’s voice did not waver. “And yet I’ve studied them longer than ye realize,” she said. “Trust me on this.”
Eloise slowed slightly, listening despite herself. “Shift the drainage,” Mairead continued. “There’s a dip in the soil there. It’s subtle, but it will collect too much water.”
Ewan grumbled, but there was reluctant respect in his tone. “Aye, I’ll see to it,” he said.
Beatrice glanced at Eloise. “She speaks like she commands the place,” she whispered.
Eloise nodded faintly. “Aye,” she said.
As they continued toward the castle, Eloise could not shake the unease settling in her chest. Mairead’s words lingered. And though she smiled for Beatrice’s sake, she knew something beneath the surface of Calibroch was shifting, and she was no longer certain where she stood within it.
Does James speak sweet nothings to Mairead behind me back? Why else would Mairead behave in such a way?